


Neighborly Behavior

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Flirty Dean, Humor, Introvert/Extrovert Pairing, M/M, Oblivious Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 15:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12235308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: Cas and Dean at a neighborhood potluck, in an AU where they're both kinda assholes.





	Neighborly Behavior

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr here](http://no-gorms.tumblr.com/post/165928497626/cas-and-dean-at-a-neighborhood-potluck-in-an-au).

Castiel is still arranging his trio of bowls on the table when Meg wanders over. He refuses to be cowed by her judgmental squint, and keeps moving them until they’re in their best configuration.

“Ah,” Meg says, “so you went with the salsa.”

“I’m regretting it a little,” Castiel admits. “Don’t know how long it’ll last in this weather.”

“I did tell you,” Meg says. “But at least you’re wearing the shirt that makes you look like saran-wrapped beef, so not all my advice was wasted.”

“I’m wearing this because it’s comfortable, not because you said so.” Castiel ignores her protesting eye-roll and adds, “What did you bring?”

“Cupcakes. They’re on the dessert table.”

“Store-bought?”

“Obviously,” Meg says. “It’s not like it’s false advertising. I told Anna that it’d be for the best if I don’t inflict my cooking on people, and she agreed. Give me that, I want to try.”

Castiel stands back while Meg takes a tortilla chip, and represses the urge to scold her when she scoops out an exorbitant amount of salsa from the main bowl. It’s far from Castiel’s first potluck here but the whole thing still makes him nervous for no reason he can pinpoint; he’s hardly known for his cooking so it’s not like anyone has expectations, and he always, _always_ prepares something easy and unremarkable.

Still he waits, uncomfortable, while Meg chews and swallows.

At long last Meg says, “It’s all right.”

Castiel relaxes. “Thank you. Maybe later you can help me finish it off if there’s leftovers.”

“Hell no,” Meg scoffs. “I’m keeping space for Dean’s pies.”

“Winchester’s brought pies, plural?” Castiel looks around for the noisiest corner of get-together, for chances are that’s where Dean Winchester can be found. Sure enough there he is, hiding his face behind his hands, for some reason trying to avoid Jo and Benny’s attempts to take a picture of him. Castiel sighs. “What am I talking about, of course he did.”

“I’ll get you a slice, don’t worry,” Meg says, ignoring Castiel’s side-eye. “Actually, I’m going to go try Rufus’ mini-cheesesteaks, so you can stay here and be anxious about your salsa by yourself.”

“I’m not…” Castiel trails off because Meg’s gone, weaving her way through the crowd for the mains table.

It’s a decent turn-out today, and Castiel’s actually very happy for Anna, what with it being the first time she’s hosted the semi-regular potluck. Castiel’s mild anxiousness pales in the face of Anna’s past week, rushing through plans and secondary plans, eventually settling on doing the neighborhood gathering in her wonderfully-decorated terrace and backyard, which would honestly put even the Romans to shame.

Castiel usually doesn’t stay long for these get-togethers, but he’s decided to hang around this once, for Anna’s sake.

So he tries a little bit of everything, and talks a little bit with everyone, and then retreats behind the drinks table with a plate of finger food and a tall glass of blue something that he’ll take as long as possible to finish. Every so often he checks to see where Anna is, and if she looks more harassed than usual – she isn’t – and then lets his mind wander to his checklist of things he needs to do when he gets home.

Castiel is trying to decide whether he needs to clean the ceiling or deal with upstairs sink first, when he registers the presence of a person nearby, just pressing into his personal space and possibly has been trying to get his attention. Castiel looks over and bites back another sigh.

“Oh, hey,” Dean says. He’s grinning, which is the norm for him.

“Hello,” Castiel says warily.

“So, I was wondering,” Dean says, which has Castiel thinking frantically of an excuse as to why he hasn’t tried any of Dean’s pies yet, “and I can’t figure it out. Which one’s yours?”

“The salsa,” Castiel says.

“Really? I tried that, it was pretty good.”

“Thank you.”

“Spicy,” Dean says. “Like you.”

“Good god, here we go,” Castiel mutters under his breath. More normally, he adds, “Yes, that was on purpose. It was a commentary on my personality.”

“So what’s it say about me that I like making pies?” Dean says thoughtfully. “And it’s not even like I’m doing anything different – everyone here knows it’s my shtick, and I made ‘em anyway.”

“It’s saying that you’re predictable?”

Dean nods, with a kind of exaggerated air that sets Castiel further on edge. Dean’s like a living cartoon character sometimes, so loud and tactile and enthusiastic about whatever has his interest today. “Maybe I could try being unpredictable,” Dean says.

“I think that would be more terrifying,” Castiel says flatly.

“I could start by saying, hey, Cas, you look really nice today.”

Castiel starts, and scowls slowly. “What?”

“The get-up,” Dean says, gesturing vaguely at Castiel. “You look good. I mean, you usually don’t—”

“If this is going to be like the time you made fun of my shirt and tie, I think you’d better stop.”

“Hey, it wasn’t going to be,” Dean says airily. “It _wasn’t_ , because you do look nice. Actually you look nice all the time; the problem is just your regular choice of shirts and ties get in the way.”

“There it is,” Castiel sighs.

“I didn’t mean it like…” Dean exhales. “Do over. You look nice. Period.”

“Thank you.” Castiel considers Dean’s look – he’s still wearing his usual plaid and jeans, but it’s a nicer set that accentuates the tapering of his torso. “You look nice, too.”

Dean winks. “I know.”

“Oh good lord.” Castiel turns away a little, needing reprieve from the full-frontal of Dean’s charm. Almost everyone else in their little community loves it and him – Dean’s made more friends in the past few months than people Castiel’s known _ever_ – and Castiel’s somehow ended up one of the last bulwarks of indifference to Winchester charisma.

It’s not even that Dean’s a bad guy. He can be funny and thoughtful, and has volunteered more often than is necessary for community events, but he’s just so _much_ , and he keeps doing things like pointing out Castiel’s prickliness and indifference to fashion and tendency to forget to do anything respectable to his hair (which _most people_ at least choose to politely ignore or not notice).

Hell, the first time they met, Dean made fun of Castiel’s car to a friend, not realizing that Castiel was in earshot. Then when Castiel made himself known and called Dean an ass, Dean hadn’t had the decency to be embarrassed, oh no. _Dean_ took that as invitation to ask Castiel to take a ride in _Dean’s_ ridiculous muscle car, and his whole face lit up when Castiel flipped him off. (Okay, Castiel hadn’t flipped him off, but he thought about it, and it must’ve been evident on his face.)

Castiel still tenses up a little whenever he hears Dean’s car around the neighborhood.

Whatever the case, this is the routine. Dean is being Dean, and Castiel feels like it’s his moral responsibility to be as aggressively Castiel right back at him.

“Did you even _try_ my pie this time?” Dean asks.

“No,” Castiel says.

“You still hung up on the last time I asked if you wanted to try?”

“Oh, the private taste-test in your house?” Castiel asks. “Yes, I remember that quite vividly.”

“I mean, lots of people would be flattered,” Dean says. “You saw how quick this one went? And I wasn’t even using my best crusts.”

“My loss.”

“ _My_ loss. The joy isn’t just in the making. It’s in others enjoying it. I mean – I enjoyed your salsa. Really, I did.” Dean smiles, broad and hopeful, and this right here is the problem with Dean: the actual earnestness in between the flash and bang.

“Thank you,” Castiel says weakly.

Dean blinks, looking almost distracted for a second, then shakes his head. It’s hardly new for Castiel to be confused around Dean, but he’s even more confused than usual when Dean turns to him with as serious and determined an expression as he’s ever seen, and says, “Okay Cas, have you been to Jody’s since she refurbished?”

“No?” Castiel says.

“You really should. Wednesday nights are great, she has a special that is – well, if I say it’s amazing, it has to be amazing.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“So you’ll go?”

Castiel shrugs. “I haven’t been in a while, so yes, I’d probably go one of these days.”

“Wednesday,” Dean presses. “Wednesday’s are good, like this coming Wednesday.”

“I suppose that’s doable.”

“So you’ll go? This Wednesday? Jody’s right over there, can I tell her?”

“Uh…” Castiel thinks quickly – he doesn’t think he has anything on for that day, and he has been meaning to see the new place. “Sure, I think that’ll work.”

“That’s a yes?” Dean’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “Fuck me, that’s a yes. Okay, you won’t regret it, I swear. I’ll see you there, or, or do you want me to pick you up?”

“What?” Castiel says.

“Yeah, we can decide that later, but anyway, it’ll be great, I’m gonna show you a good time and… Wait, you’re doing that frowny face at me, did I miss something? This not cool? You don’t want to have dinner with me? Because that’s… okay, too.”

“Uh,” Castiel says. “Dinner _with_ you?”

“Yeah?” Dean says, suddenly hesitant. “At Jody’s. On Wednesday?”

“Oh,” Castiel says. “Okay.”

Dean’s grin has possibly never been this blinding before. “Cool. I’m gonna go let Jody know, I’ll be right back.”

Castiel blinks at the empty space where Dean was standing a second ago. “What.”

 

* * *

 

 

Honor be damned, Castiel flees to the kitchen where he finds Anna and Raphael scrounging around and yelling at each other about missing spare cups.

“Anna!” Castiel exclaims.

“Do _you_ know where the spare cups are?” Anna asks. “Because I could have sworn there was a bag on the table and it’s… What’s wrong with you?”

“I think Dean might have been hitting on me,” Castiel says.

Anna and Raphael seem to freeze in place, cups forgotten as they both slowly turn to stare at him.

“Really?” Anna says in an odd tone. “No way.”

“Wow,” Raphael says. “Unbelievable.”

“I know, unbelievable.” Castiel thinks. “Maybe I was just imagining it.”

“Oh _no_ ,” Anna moans, jabbing Raphael in the side. “Trust that initial gut reaction, Cas. If you think Dean was hitting on you, he probably was.”

“But it’s just so…” Castiel tilts his head. “Actually, I think your cups are on top of the fridge.”

“But we just—oh.” Anna bounces up on her tiptoes just as Raphael reaches above her, grabbing the bag and pulling them down. The pair of them start rushing back outside, but Anna manages to call over her shoulder, “I’ll catch up with you later! I want all the details!”

But in order to do that, _Castiel_ needs all the details, and he has the feeling he’s missing some of them.

His phone buzzes just then, and he looks down to see a message from Dean (yes, Castiel has his number, they’ve been on committees together), which says: “ _knew you liked me! is okay I like you too ;)_ ”

“Fuck,” Castiel says.


End file.
